


One Night in Doma

by Shammoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Briefly addressed Hien/Cirina, F/M, Or the potential for it in the future, Stormblood Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shammoner/pseuds/Shammoner
Summary: She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d returned now, of all times.  There was plenty to occupy her attention in Gyr Abania, what with the disturbance the Garlond Ironworks was keeping an eye on, but she...something had pulled her here, had made her think that perhaps she was due a bit of respite, even if that just meant applying herself to a different region’s problems for a bit.She turned a corner, and spotted a shock of unruly black hair defiantly bound into a high tail, and suddenly, breathlessly, knew just why she’d come back.





	One Night in Doma

**Author's Note:**

> I certainly don't have any explanation for this mess. The first time I write something substantial in months, maybe a year, and it's a bunch of long, wandering prose with some substandard porn at the end. What?
> 
> My character's married and not interested in Hien, so I made it a Generic WoL. You might have trouble with suspension of disbelief here if you're a Lalafell or bald or super tall or something, though.
> 
> anyway bye

She stepped off the skiff, rolling her shoulders in a vain attempt to ease the tension running through her whole body.  It hadn’t really been _that_ long since her last visit to the Enclave; a hurried visit before they’d departed Othard, to head back to Eorzea and finish what they’d started in Ala Mhigo.

The place already had signs of progress, though.  She shouldered her pack and raised a hand, half-glancing back over her shoulder to show the fisherman who’d brought her over her thanks, and then she moved on.

Many of the tumbled piles of stone had been tidied up, if not removed; in the late afternoon light, she could see people working here and there, moving stones, repairing structures, and even, in a few cases, crafting new things.  Mostly practical things, to be sure--sparks from a forge as a blacksmith hammered out nails, the faint, insistent snapping noise of fiber as someone else wound cordage onto a spool.  The creak and pull of someone planing boards.

She found that she liked it, the sound of a people finding their feet again.  With that thought crossing her mind, she started walking, working her way deeper into the Enclave.

People noticed, of course, and no few of them would let the liberator of two nations pass without at least a greeting and in some cases, a round of thanks or a bit of gossip.  It was in her nature to hear out the concerns of those she passed, so she stopped each time, nodding solemnly or adding a word or response where it was needed.  When they seemed satisfied, she took her leave, pressing on.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d returned now, of all times.  There was plenty to occupy her attention in Gyr Abania, what with the disturbance the Garlond Ironworks was keeping an eye on, but she...something had pulled her here, had made her think that perhaps she was due a bit of respite, even if that just meant applying herself to a different region’s problems for a bit.

She turned a corner, and spotted a shock of unruly black hair defiantly bound into a high tail, and suddenly, breathlessly, knew just why she’d come back.

It was, for her, not precisely an alien sensation, but certainly one she never had much leisure to contemplate.  There were always crises to solve, which left little time to act the blushing maiden, even if she’d wanted to.  Yet something in the earnest smile of the man before her had left an impression, had pressed itself into the more vulnerable parts of her mind like a signet ring smearing the wax of a sealed letter.  Maybe it was the core of solemnity to him, the quiet acceptance of his own value, the blunt reality of seeing his father slain and knowing that his people might never recover.  That tended to temper a person.

Maybe it was simply how even in the wake of the harsh truths that had scorched Doma, he still managed to smile at all, how once he knew his people were ready, he swung back into the fray, ready to do his part.  How he’d traveled by ship and Yol to a faraway land to lend his blade to their cause on the say-so of nothing but the few who had helped him take back his own home.

Maybe it was just because he was Hien, and that her heart was not made of stone as some surely thought.  He was sparring with some youngsters, but when his practice strikes made him turn and his eyes caught hers, he smiled--no, he _grinned_ , for the moment nearly as youthful as the younglings he was training.

She found herself smiling back, unable to contain herself at the sheer happiness in his expression.  In the back of her mind, something stirred, a sense that served her well in combat, not even the Echo but something more mundane.  A little tinge of worry.  A tiny voice that said ‘watch out, you’re in trouble’.

For the moment she ignored the voice, as Hien ruffled a boy’s hair and then turned to walk her way.  Behind him, lounging against the side of a building, she could make out the shape of Hakuro; as the children milled about, watching Hien, he stepped out of the shadow and herded them away a bit.  She could have sworn that the lupine man winked at her as he did, but dismissed it as Hien drew near enough to speak.

“My friend!” he called out, his tone nothing short of joyous.  “We weren’t expecting you, but make no mistake, I’m delighted you’re here.  Have you seen the progress we’ve made?”

He sounded proud, and no doubt as to why.  To the outside observer, the Enclave might still be cluttered and rough, but it was the first signs of a people in recovery, those who had finally found enough steel in their spines to stand up to their oppressors, and why shouldn’t he be proud of that?

“A bit,” she said, her expression softening at the pleased look on his face.  “Would you care to give me a tour?  I’m sure there’s things I must have missed.”

He practically beamed at the suggestion and turned at once, left hand resting on the hilt of his katana in an unconscious gesture.  He was off at once, heading further into the Enclave, to a part she hadn’t seen yet.  She followed at once, eyes fixed on his back as he led the way.  The brilliant yellow robe he favored fairly glowed in the westering sun, the loose sleeve swaying from where it was belted to his side.  Her eyes followed the line of it up, across the armor he wore beneath, to his shoulder and neck and the tendrils of hair that hadn’t made it into the ribbons tying up the rest.

Her mouth went dry, and she hastened her steps a bit, walking beside him rather than behind.  He looked at her and smiled, again, and it was all she could do to return it.  His expression, in turn, faltered.

“Does something trouble you?” he wondered, his voice softer.

How could she put that into words?

"Oh no, I...I am tired, I suppose,” she said in return.  “I’ve been going from one battle to the next, as you well know.  It must be catching up to me at last.”

The lines furrowing his brow eased a bit.  “Ah.  Well, then...you should stay the night here in the Enclave.”

She tried her hardest to hide the way her heart jack-knifed in her chest at those words.  Before she could open her mouth to protest, he kept talking.

“We’ve managed to clear out the hot springs behind what used to be the inn,” he said, gesturing.  “They’ve put me, Yugiri, and Hakuro up there for the time being.  Building’s still in fairly good shape, for all it went through.  Springs were a mess--I think they ruined them on purpose, but we managed to dredge them out and get the water flowing again.  There’s plenty of spare rooms, too, and if the food isn’t fancy, there’s plenty of it as long as you like rice.”

She found her voice after a moment.  “Oh, no, I couldn’t...I couldn’t impose like that, your people have been through enough.  I thought I’d just catch a boat back across and see if those namazu at Yuzuka Manor could rent me a room for the night.”

He actually _frowned_ at that.  “Nonsense.  I insist.  You’re a hero, the Warrior of Light!  I heard plenty of tales in Ala Mhigo about things you’ve done that you never told us.  It would be our honor to host you.”

She knew when she’d been beaten.  Now that he’d insisted, it would be rude to refuse, even though something about the offer made her outright nervous in a way facing down Garleans and Primals never had.  She breathed in and out once before speaking, her voice as stable as she could make it.  “In that case, I accept your offer with gratitude.”

He smiled again, and she found that she would very much like to see that expression on his face more.  “Good,” he said.  “Now, let me show you around the rest of the Enclave, and then we’ll go get you settled in.”

 

* * *

She looked up at the ceiling as they walked through the doors of the inn, and had enough presence of mind to stop and remove her footwear as she did.  There was a graveled area with boards along one side, a few pairs of shoes and boots already resting there.  She placed her own there and slipped on one of the pairs of sandals waiting beside.

The tour had been... pleasant, though something still had her nerves as taut as a harpstring.  Yugiri had been delighted to see her, but there had been a very _knowing_ expression in the other woman’s eyes that had unnerved her a bit.  She’d played Triple Triad against a man who had...fiendishly good cards, honestly.  Perhaps left behind by the Garleans?

Hien had watched it all, his expression happy but inscrutable.  She couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking as he watched her lose match after match to her opponent, nor even when she won and he cheered her on.

Why did that bother her so?

“We’ll find you a nice room first,” he said, already walking up the wide staircase in the middle of the room.  She followed, shifting her pack a bit, and looked back up at the ceiling.  Lost in thought, she’d barely registered the beautiful woodworking, which was only slightly damaged and diminished by the depredations of the Garleans.  The entire building was lovely, even if its upkeep had obviously suffered in the past year or so.

She was so busy admiring the architecture of the place that when he stopped outside a door, she very nearly ran into his back.  She stopped at once, taking a half step back, face heating a bit in embarrassment.  He glanced over his shoulder, and if he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he said, opening the door and showing her inside.  The room was...well, what she’d expected, much of a kind with the Bokairo Inn back in Kugane, though bearing differences marking it out as Doman rather than Hingan.  The walls were a soothing dark blue, and a shuttered window served as the centerpiece of the opposite wall.  The bed was, of course, one of the more uncomfortable boardlike affairs that were common in the far east, but she had her bedroll and she’d certainly slept on worse.

"It’s lovely,” she assured him, moving past him and into the room.  She tried very hard not to notice how her left arm brushed his chest as she moved through the doorway, and utterly failed at it.  Silently scolding herself, she lowered her pack to the floor near the doorway and knelt down to unfasten the bedroll from the bottom.  “I trust it’s okay if I throw my bedroll on the bed over there?  Or even the floor?”

“Oh, of course,” he said, sounding mildly surprised.  “Are you cold?  I can fetch some blankets…”

“No, just a little sore,” she assured him, shaking the bedroll flat and tossing it onto the bed.

“Well, in that case, why don’t you go have a wash and a soak in the hot spring?” he said.  “I’ll find us something to eat, and...hmm.  I’ll take it to my rooms, actually, they’re just down the hall.  It’s actually got a table to eat off of, too.”

That little warning voice piped up in the back of her head again, but she ignored it, favoring him with a smile instead.  “Sounds good.  My thanks.”

He returned her smile.  “Hot springs are on the lower level--just go through the doors behind the staircase,” he said.  With that, he stepped back into the hallway and away, and she finally had some room to breathe.

_What was she doing?_ She knew better than to get caught up in...in wild infatuations, in letting her heart get the better of her mind.  She was a hero, the Warrior of Light, savior of Eorzea several times over.  There was little room in her life for anything except the job before her, and that was ignoring all the other complications, like a certain lovely pink-haired Xaela woman that she _knew_ had her eyes on Hien as well.

She braced herself for a long moment, rubbed her eyes, then sighed and grabbed a change of clothes from her packs.  She really did need that hot soak.

 

* * *

The hot spring had lived up to her expectations, being screened off by plenty of vegetation for privacy’s sake and with water not smelling heavily of sulfur as she’d encountered a few times in Coerthas.  She had simply sat there, leaning back against warm stone, and stared up at the sky as the twilight colors bled out into true night.  Once stars started to appear, first one and then a handful more, she decided she’d probably been soaking long enough and had made her exit.

There had been towels waiting--perhaps Hien’s doing, or whatever servants there inevitably were in a place this large--along with a light cotton robe similar to the ones she’d seen around the Moonfire Faire back in Eorzea, though a bit longer.  The colors were muted instead of bright and ornamented, but it was soft and looked comfortable.  She looked at her change of clothes, and then slipped on the robe instead.

After that, she’d padded back upstairs and put her clothes back in her room, then looked along the hallway.  The lanterns had all been lit by this time, creating puddles of light on the polished floorboards, and only one other door was open.  She steeled herself and walked on.

When she reached the door, she peered in, spotting Hien at once.  He was sitting on the other side of a low table that seemed to be fairly _piled_ with food, more than she’d expected.  His armor was gone, though he still wore his robe and pants.  The robe was still hanging off one shoulder, which exposed a swathe of his bare chest, and her heart leapt into her throat.

_Relax.  Focus._ She thought to herself.  The light was poor enough that she figured it’d hide her sudden blush, and she coughed slightly to announce her presence.  He looked up at her, and his look was momentarily--confused?  Taken aback?  She couldn’t quite place it.  After that brief moment, though, he smiled and held his arms wide.

“My friend!  I hope the hot spring was to your liking?” he asked, motioning for her to join him at the table.

“Of course,” she replied, stepping into the room and kneeling opposite him.  “By the Twelve, Hien, this is...quite a lot of food.  Are you expecting me to eat half of all that’s here?”

He laughed.  “No, no.  I just wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I asked for a bit of everything.  We’ll bundle up what’s left and take it back to the kitchen.”

She hummed a little as she took that in, glancing over the fare.  There was plenty of rice--as he’d said--but also meat and vegetables.  All fish and chicken, it looked like, which was no surprise--much easier to catch, keep and tend than pork or beef.  Several dishes sported eggs, too, scrambled and fried alike, and there were pickles of several kinds here and there.

“It all looks delicious,” she confessed, picking up a pair of chopsticks and reaching for a piece of sushi before she caught herself.  “I’m sorry, may I?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning his chin in one hand and looking at her.  His gaze was oddly warm, and she prayed briefly that she wasn’t going to start blushing again, because he’d certainly be able to tell now.

She soon had a nice selection of food on her plate--sushi, tempura, rice, pickles, some croquettes, even a whole grilled mackerel.  Though she hadn’t mentioned it to him before, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she fell on the food with a vengeance, trying to remember her manners as she went.  It was bad enough keeping the etiquette of three different city-states _and_ Ishgardian high society in mind without then adding more to the mix, but she did well enough.

Once he seemed satisfied that she was actually eating, he made his own choices and started eating as well.  She couldn’t help but notice the no-nonsense way he put his food away, much as she did, the habits of someone used to eating quickly and getting back to whatever they’d had to put off for mealtime.  Perversely, it made her slow down, taking her time in pulling the last shreds of flesh from the fish, and even pausing to pour herself a mug of tea from the steaming teapot to one side of the table.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his gaze following her as she poured the tea.  He was watching her...much more closely than she expected, with an expression that verged on slightly stunned.  She straightened up to replace the teapot, and by the time she did, he was focused on his food again.  Perhaps a little too focused.

She tried to marshal her thoughts as she stirred a spoonful of honey into the tea and looked around the room as she took a sip.  That was when her eyes happened to alight on something in the corner she hadn’t quite expected to see.

“Hien,” she said, with obvious delight, “is that an _orchestrion?_ ”

He was obviously startled by the shift in her tone, and glanced over his shoulder before looking back at her.  “Yes.  Ah...the Enclave hosted many traders when times were better, from as far away as Radz-at-Han.  There’s no telling where it’s from, but it works.”

She stood up, cradling her mug of tea, and walked over to the contrivance.  They were becoming much more common in Eorzea, even in some of the higher-class rooms at inns, and she’d collected no few rolls of music in her travels.  This one already had one wound and ready to play, with several others in a box to one side.  She could feel Hien’s eyes on her back even as she reached out, and only at the last moment did she think to look back for permission.

This time there was no hiding it--he was staring, and though he tried to marshal his expression, it wasn’t quick enough to hide the faint tinge of red across his cheekbones.  Though some part of her mind was still clamoring a warning, it made her feel...better, somehow.  On equal footing.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “May I?”

“May you what?” he asked, sounding a little bit lost.

“Play the song that’s in here,” she said, tapping on the casing of the orchestrion with one finger.

“Oh...ah, of course,” he said, rallying at last.  “It’s just an old Doman melody, but it’s nice.  I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She hummed and pressed the buttons that began feeding the music through.  True to what he’d said, the music began--Doman instruments, Doman melody.  It was soothing, in its own way, calling her mind to contemplate a better time, an unbroken kingdom.

Hien was watching as she walked back across the room and knelt at the table once again, taking a long sip of her tea.  She closed her eyes as the music played, letting it wash over her.  She heard the sound of Hien setting his own chopsticks down at last, and she opened her eyes to see what he was doing.

As it turned out, he was just...watching her, again.  He was cradling his chin in his hand, mouth crossed by his fingers, thumb idly, almost nervously, rubbing the corner of his jaw.  His eyes were dark and nigh-unreadable with part of his face obscured, and a sudden thought leapt to her mind: _this simply wouldn’t do._

“I’ve an idea,” she said, causing him to start a bit.  “Why don’t you pack up the leftovers and get them out of the way, and I’ll go get some my orchestrion rolls from my room?  We could listen to some of my favorite music from Eorzea, perhaps have a drink, catch up on how the reconstruction is going.  Perhaps if there’s anything I can do to help?”

He seemed to be taking her words in slowly, but once he’d let them sink in, he nodded.  “Yes...I’d like that,” he said, already reaching for one of the plates of food.

She smiled in return and stood, retreating for the moment to her own room.  Once she was there, she took a deep breath, struck with sudden anxiety.  What _exactly_ was she planning?  She wasn’t stupid--she’d seen the way he was looking at her.  Some part of her was insistently warning that she was about to make a huge mistake.  It would be so much safer to simply lean out of her door, tell Hien as he passed that she was very tired and would be getting some rest, sleep through the night and leave quickly in the morning, hopefully before he woke.

Then again, when was the Warrior of Light known for taking the safe option?

She walked to her pack and rummaged through it, finding the scroll case that she kept her favorite orchestrion rolls in.  It took a bit to sort through them and choose a few that, for whatever reason, were calling out to her in particular.  She packed the others back into the case and, with her chosen music in hand, walked back down the hall to Hien’s room.

He was standing in front of the orchestrion, facing it, head tilted downward slightly.  She wasn’t sure exactly what was going through his head, but some impulse made her slide the door shut behind her.  Even that slight noise was enough to draw his attention, and he glanced back at her, then turned.  His face was...oddly blank.  Not a good sign, to her mind, but she rallied quickly, holding out the music for him to see.

“Took me a bit to find ones I favored,” she said by way of explanation.  She walked over to the orchestrion, and fished the end of one roll free, finding the right spot in the casing to pop open and switch out the music.  She rolled the removed scroll up carefully and put it back in its box, and then fed the end of one of her chosen rolls into the machinery.  A bit of jostling later, and she snapped the casing closed, putting her other music on the floor for now as she turned the machine on.

The song started softly, but with an undeniable, measurable beat.  An Ishgardian waltz, one she’d heard the first time at Fortemps Manor, when she’d peeked into the ballroom and seen a dance instructor attempting to tutor Emmanelain.  Edmont’s youngest son had been getting a bit handsy, and the instructor was getting frustrated, but she’d been enthralled by the _music._

Later on, she’d had a chance to see people dance properly, without trying to get a handful of something they shouldn’t, and it had delighted her.  The footwork was simple enough, but the way it matched to the music, the way the dancers nearly flew across the floor in time to that beat, One-two-three…

When Edmont had offered the services of the dance tutor to _her_ , she’d jumped at the chance.

“What is this?” Hien asked, bringing her back to the present.  She blushed as she realized how she’d probably been staring off into space.

"It’s Ishgardian.  A waltz.  It’s, hmm...a piece of music I learned to dance to,” she offered, seeing no reason to lie.

“A dance?” he asked, looking at the orchestrion, then at her.  “Can you show me?”

Her mind momentarily stalled out, but she found her words quickly enough.  “Oh, I’d...I’d love to, but I can’t, not by myself.  It’s a partnered dance, you see, a ballroom dance for a couple.”

He froze.  She could see it happen, see the way he stopped moving as his mind worked, like he was trying to find the best words for whatever would be next out of his mouth.

Perhaps that was why it surprised her when he repeated himself.  “...can you show me?”

Something had changed, though.  His voice was lower, more certain, and his eyes...his eyes were raking over her, quite obviously, as if he wasn’t afraid to let her see it.  She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a cliff.  She could step back, or she could jump, and pray that she would land safely at the bottom.

His eyes were telling her, _I’ll catch you._

She took a step closer to him and reached out, taking his left hand in her right, lifting it up.  She couldn’t allow herself to hesitate now, of all times, so she reached out with her left hand, resting it on his shoulder, just shy of the scar cut deeply into his skin.  His breath hitched, and she could feel it.  Slowly--perhaps too slowly--she ran her hand down his arm, taking his right hand and placing it on her side.

Only then did she put her hand back on his shoulder, resting her arm along his.  Her thumb brushed the edge of his scar, and this time he _shivered._

This was too much, her mind insisted desperately, as she felt his fingers tighten against her side, sliding across the fabric of her robe.  She was falling, falling, falling…

She dared to look into his eyes again, and he caught her.

“What do I do?” he asked, smiling again, perhaps catching her poleaxed expression.  His grip on her hand was solid, comforting.

“Usually,” she said, “the fellow leads.  Since you’re new, perhaps I should have switched our places, but--”

His eyes flicked toward her hand on his shoulder, and his grip tightened slightly.

“I think I prefer this,” he said bluntly.

“Right,” she said, taking a deep breath, trying to find her place in the music.  “We step in threes, in a box.  I’ll step back, and you follow.  Our feet should move at the same time.  It’ll take a bit to get the hang of it...just try to follow the music.”

He nodded, and she focused on dancing as the instructor had told her.  Back, side, feet together.  Forward, side, feet together.  Hien took a second to catch on, and nearly stumbled as he hurried to match her.  She kept moving, turning slightly.  Back, side, together, then forward, side, together.

She fell into the music much as she had when the dance instructor had trained her, that steady one-two-three beat, and sure enough, Hien started to as well.  Soon she felt comfortable enough to take larger steps, to turn a bit, sending them in a lazy route around the room as the music played.

It was nice--no, it was _wonderful_.  Being this close was intoxicating in its own way, and she still had a feeling that she was falling, somehow.  It was just that now she didn’t entirely care.  Not with her fingers pressed into the skin of his shoulder, not with her other hand cradled in his.  She had been glancing down and around for a bit, trying to make sure she wasn’t going to sidle backwards into a wall or trip on anything, so it was a bit hilarious to her that looking back into his eyes was what made her stumble.

His expression was very easy to read, now, and the only problem was the intensity of it.  His gaze was heated, best described as hungry, his cheekbones red.

She couldn’t really handle it, all of a sudden.  She stumbled, and he reacted mostly instinctively, his hand sliding from her side to her back, pulling her close so she didn’t fall.  She found herself with her cheek pressed into the curve where his neck met his shoulder, her body pressed against him from chest to thigh, blood singing through her in a shock at the sudden contact.  She pulled her head back just far enough to look him in the eye, and the next thing she knew, he’d unclasped their joined hands and brought his around to the back of her head, pulling her closer for a kiss.

As soon as their lips met the tension drained out of her, and she pressed herself against him even harder, her hand splaying out across his shoulder.  She tilted her head slightly, a better angle, and he responded with a quick gasp for breath and a more passionate return, hands dragging at her as if he could pull her closer still if he only tried.

Warning bells were going off in her mind, held at one remove as her blood rushed to far more interesting places.  It was impossible to ignore the heat pooling low and insistent between her legs, especially with the hard line of his own arousal pressing against her even through three layers of clothing.

She gave in, at least a bit, thumb tracing the line of the scar on his shoulder, from one point of the cross to the second, to the third, and the last, repeating the motion as he shivered her grasp and she in his.  His lips didn’t leave hers until they broke apart for breath, at which point his hand went from the back of her head to the side, thumb stroking underneath her eye, gently, tenderly.

Her mind rallied enough for her to speak.  “Hien,” she breathed out, voice almost confused.  “Hien, we can’t.  Cirinia--”

To her surprise, he merely smiled.  “Cirina is a grown woman,” he said softly.  “She’s been through Bardam’s trials the same as us and has the Yol to prove it.  She’s not yet made a move, but that is her concern, not yours.”

“But I…” she started to say, further words choked off by a downright wanton gasp as he slid his other hand down, lower on her back, pressing her closer and grinding their hips together.

“You’re not betraying her,” he said.  “There is nothing to betray.  Worry when there is, not before.  If you wish, this will just be one night in Doma, between friends.”

Could it be that simple?  She wanted to believe it could.  Her body certainly wanted to believe it, as he pressed them close together again, another insistent grind of his hips dragging another long, needy cry out of her mouth.

“How long have you denied yourself your desires?” he asked.  “You might be a hero, but you’re still a woman.  Let yourself go for tonight.”

She wavered, caught between duty and desire, and he must have known that she was teetering on the edge.  He leaned closer, voice low.

“Let me take care of you, my friend.”

All the fight went out of her.  She leaned against him, suddenly almost sick with hunger, with longing and need, and nodded into the crook of his neck.  She felt the press of his lips against the top of her head, and then he was trailing the hand on her head down to her waist, lifting her up nigh-effortlessly.  She wrapped her legs around his waist as he took one step, then another, through the further door into the room where he slept.

He turned slightly, putting her back against a pillar, and ground his hips upward in earnest, slowly pressing the entire length of his cock against her, hitting on her most sensitive spots as her legs were still wound around his waist.  She stifled a shout, barely, her hands going to his head, tugging at the ribbons keeping his hair bound.

“Hien,” she gasped.  “May I?”

“Of course,” he murmured, dipping his head slightly, she thought at first to give her an easier time, until his lips dragged against the line of her shoulder, bared by her slipping robe.  It was _highly_ distracting, and her fingers momentarily stilled in the process of pulling the ribbons free, until she managed to regain enough sense to keep working.  It took only a moment once she managed to put her mind to it--well, as much of her mind as was left at this point, anyway--and she lowered her hand to drop them on the floor as his hair, unbound and unruly, cascaded down his back and over his shoulders.

She was entranced all at once, burying both hands in that mane, running her fingers through it and trying not to pull on the inevitable tangles she found.  He sighed in pleasure as she put her nails to his scalp, rutting upward against her once again.

“Feel free to just...keep doing that forever,” he mumbled, sounding very nearly drunk.  She laughed slightly in response, low and delighted, matching another drag of her nails to the exhalation.

He found his feet, so to speak, once his hair had settled a bit, and his hands lifted her up a bit--or perhaps he was sliding further down, sinking to her knees in front of her.  She was momentarily perplexed, and missed the contact, the press of his body and the feel of his erection grinding into her.  She couldn’t quite manage to silence a whine in response.

“Shh,” he said.  “I said you need to let yourself go, and I intend to make certain you do.”

She barely noticed that he’d unfastened the belt of her robe until he was sliding his hand underneath, brushing bare skin, and by the Twelve she couldn’t contain the blush that was surely coloring her whole face at this point.  His fingers found the curve of her hip, then traced back and down, between her legs.

When his fingers found her clit, she couldn’t contain herself, back arching off the pillar slightly with a high-pitched, extremely needy cry.  It wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself, but she’d been so _busy_ lately, and having someone else’s fingers on her was exhilarating and maddening all at once.  There was pressure where she didn’t need it and not enough where she did, and she shifted her hips in a bid to get him where she wanted.

Fortunately, Hien was a quick study.  He followed her movements and was soon rubbing against her _just_ as she liked, which was even better when he replaced fingers with thumb and pressed his other fingers inside her.  She was already drastically wet, and the easy stretch of her body combined with the pressure on her clit wrung a desperate moan from her.  Her hands had long since lost their grip in his hair, and she slapped both against the pillar, instinctively trying to hold herself up though her arms were shaking wildly.  If not for his strong grip, she would probably have fallen.

She found she liked it.

The room spun in her vision as she gasped for breath, trying to ride the wave of pleasure cresting through her body.  That was when he stopped rubbing at her with his thumb, and the piteous whine she made at the sudden lack would have been embarrassing if she’d been more in control of herself.  Fortunately, she didn’t have a chance, because Hien pushed her robe the rest of the way open and leaned forward, replacing thumb with tongue.

His fingers were still pressing into her, crooking insistently as she shook and flexed around them, but now the pressure on her clit was hot and wet and powerfully insistent, moreso than his thumb had been.  She arched her back again, fingers convulsing helplessly against the pillar, and glanced down, only to see him glancing up at her through the screen of his wild, unruly hair.

She couldn’t see anything but his eyes, but his expression turned fierce, wild even, and he laved his tongue flat against her before putting his lips to work as well, his fingers never ceasing their movement.

For one bright, brilliant moment, she saw stars, and she was _sure_ her resultant cry must have been loud enough to hear outside the room.  Fortunately, she was utterly unable to care, or feel shame, as she came unwound all at once, her whole body shaking, feeling for a moment as if she were about to come apart at the seams.  The only constant seemed to be Hien, who slowed his attentions just enough to not overwhelm her but left himself connected, an anchor as she returned to herself bit by bit.

“Hien,” she breathed out.  “ _Hien._ ”

He pulled his hand back.  His fingers, slick from being within her, slid across her thigh, up her waist, as he got back to his feet, and higher still.  Her robe, hanging open, was failing to cover pretty much anything at this point, and his hand went up to her breasts, cupping one, thumb rubbing idly at her nipple.  His other hand, still bracing her hip so she wouldn’t fall, rubbed a similar pattern into her hip.  She felt warm, slightly woozy, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

She could taste herself on his lips, and the thought made her shiver in delight, pulling her hands away from their fruitless press against the pillar to tangle in his hair once again.  He sighed into her mouth before he spoke, his voice rough.

“You are a thing of beauty, my friend,” he murmured.  “Are you feeling a bit better?”

“More than a bit,” she replied, voice still a little stunned.  “Surely you desire more, though?”

His eyes met her, his gaze molten hot.  “Only if you do as well.”

Another rush of heat overtook her, and she let out a tiny, choked moan.  “I...yes, I do.  Please, Hien…”

He kissed her again, rougher this time, teeth tugging on her lower lip as he stepped back from the pillar with her in tow.  She worried, for a moment, that he’d overbalance, but he somehow managed to be graceful even now, taking a few long steps backward until he encountered the edge of his bed.

He sat, then, letting her fall into his lap, and she shed the robe without a backward glance, letting it pool on the floor as she leaned into him, pressing down against his body, as close as she could get.  She found herself annoyed that he was still clothed, and worked at the belt holding his robe closed with an irritated grumble.  It was more complicated than she’d expected, and he chuckled softly, moving his hand from her hip to the ties, helping her unfasten them.

Soon enough she was able to push the robe back and off his shoulders, getting a glance at his whole chest, bare, for the first time.  The scar on his shoulder wasn’t the only one--no great surprise, for someone who’d survived an attack by Zenos yae Galvus and barely managed to escape.  A few wide slashes, one puncture that she suspected had a mate on his back.

“We’ve both seen more than we ought have,” she said softly, tracing one of the longer scars with her fingertips.  He shuddered, letting out a noise that was very nearly pained, and lifted his hand to run through her hair, settling on the back of her head and pulling her face down to his once again.

She didn’t mind.  Hien was proving to be quite good at kissing, with just the right amount of give and take, and his other hand was still cradling her breast.  With that in mind, she trailed the hand on his chest down, across his stomach to his waist.  He shuddered violently, mouth moving as if to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance, sliding her hand beneath the waistband of his pants and continuing until she could get a hand around him.

That wrung an actual cry from his mouth, his head tilting back slightly as she stroked down, thumb dipping into the tip and then down, trailing wetness as she went.  His fingers convulsed, tightening their grip on her, as she toyed with him, watching the play of his muscles and listening to the hitch in his breath as she worked.

She wasn’t entirely surprised when he loosed his grip on her hair and caught her arm in his grip, pulling her hand back.  She affected a pout, quite obviously fake but enough to get him to pinch her nipple in retaliation.

“There’s other things I want beside your hand, pleasant though it is,” he told her, very matter-of-fact.  The sound of his voice sent a thrill up her spine, and she merely nodded, chasing his hands as he went to remove the last of his clothing.

It took no time at all, and then they were both bare, clothes mingling on the floor and skin pressed against skin.She was still in his lap, facing him, leaning forward just a bit so that she was pressing against his cock.  Every breath hitched as she felt it there, unsure just how he wanted to proceed.

He lifted a hand again, resting his whole palm against the side of her face, thumb rubbing the skin under her eye.  “You’re certain you still want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, seeing no reason to add more to the statement when her voice was fit to fail her anyway.

He nodded and moved his hands to her hips, leaning back a bit and pulling her up, to her knees, until she could line herself up.  She was, perhaps, a bit surprised that _this_ was how he wished to start, but she wasn’t about to complain.  With the head of his cock rubbing back and forth across her entrance, it was hard to keep things like daydreamed expectations in mind, and this?  She didn’t mind this _at all_.

She sank down, almost all at once, gasping out a breath at the wonderful stretch as she took him in.  He gasped as well, fingers tightening on her hips, and she pulled back just a little, sinking down again, this time all the way.  Skin met skin, and she allowed herself a moment to delight in the sensation, that pleasant fullness, before she started moving again.

She settled on something more of a grinding motion after moving for a bit, much preferring the way his cock felt within her from that angle; from the somewhat dazed look in his eyes, he certainly didn’t have any complaints.  This angle, the drag and pull of it, let her line him up just right to hit whatever spot it was within that made her gasp and tremble.  The pace she set might be somewhat slow, maddening even, as she ground against him so exquisitely that it made her shake all over, but he made no move to hurry her along.

In fact, his hand moved down, thumb rubbing along her still-sensitive clit even as she moved against him.  It was almost too much, but managed to be just what she needed, and she was soon shaking in the throes of a second orgasm, pushing herself as far as she could onto the hard length of his cock, the feeling of her body pulsing around him enough to leave her panting in delight.

He let her have a moment to breathe, and then, as easily as if she weighed nothing, slipped an arm underneath her and flipped them, looking down at her as his hair gave in to the pull of gravity and slipped over his shoulder, an unruly mass of jet-black that pooled against her chest as he leaned down for a kiss.

She felt his hand on her leg then, bending it, moving it up.  She was limber in the aftermath of two orgasms, and sighed in delighted pleasure as he dragged his lips along the side of her shin before settling it over his shoulder.

He braced his arms alongside her, then, and started to move.

If her grinding had been torturously slow, Hien’s thrusts were gratifyingly strong.  His pace was faster than her grinding had been, for certain, but still slow enough for him to savor the moment.  His expression was still hungry, but now delighted, also, a hunter with his quarry in sight, the chase nearly done.

She reached up, one hand on his scarred shoulder, the other in his hair, fingertips meeting his scalp.  He hissed out something in his native tongue, low enough she didn’t quite catch it, his next thrust stuttering slightly as she scraped her nails back.  She pressed her other thumb against the center of his scar, and he slammed into her with enough force that she moaned sharply--not in pain, but in shock, surprise, delight.

_Now_ she had him.  She kept her grip on him, moving her hips as he did his, meeting each thrust a little harder, teasing at those sensitive spots.  It wasn’t long until he gasped out what was probably meant to be a warning, a shuddering exhalation of “I...I’m…”

“Shh,” she assured him.  “Let go.”

She pulled his head down so her lips met his, and as she did, he slammed into her one final time, cock spasming as he came.  He shook in the aftermath, and she slipped her leg off his shoulder, easing him onto his side, then his back, and gently separating herself from him, curling up at his side.

“You had best not regret this,” he warned her, no real sting in his words.  “Only a fool would be able to deny this is what we both wanted.”

She hummed agreement, running a hand through his hair again until he closed his eyes with a happy sigh.  Her own eyes heavy, she laid her head on his shoulder, letting slumber claim her...peaceful and untroubled, if only for one night.


End file.
